


Static Snow

by hearts_kun



Category: Persona 5
Genre: (explicit language used for lower body parts may be dysphoria inducing), Choking, M/M, Omorashi, Overstimulation, Trans Akechi Goro, Trans Character, Vaginal Fingering, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-23 02:02:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17674310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_kun/pseuds/hearts_kun
Summary: Static is what they are when Goro loses track of time and conversations, Shido changes plans and moods, but they both end up in the same position as always: dirty, messy, holding up a façade, and internally confused. Goro doesn't expect change anymore.





	Static Snow

“Your lips are dry,” his thumb pressing on Goro's lower lip is hot, though.

He traces it down, grabs Goro's chin and turns his head away. Grins, pshaws, lets him go.

The kiss doesn't happen.

Goro can't tell if he's alright with it. He would most likely prefer it to go as usual: a quick blowjob, a few words of praise, a shit ton of orders, carefully closed door when you want to slam it shut with full force, unsteady steps to the nearest bathroom, carefully washed face and hands, just fierce enough not to hurt the skin (that would raise questions he doesn't want to answer, doesn't have to answer, will never answer). That way he doesn't have to think. Doesn't have to analyze and calculate each step.

Shido takes a tube of lip balm somewhere out of his drawers, and Goro tenses. When the usual scenario gets interrupted, Goro has to pay full attention. There’s no autopilot anymore, no way to switch off and go on. For a moment, he hesitates before taking the tube and hears Shido’s annoyed sigh. He then hastily takes it, nearly drops it, and immediately realizes he’s going to fail this one. He’s absolutely unable to concentrate.

His brain keeps playing the same track on repeat: a blowjob, a word of praise, so many orders, one not slammed door. The bathroom. The dirt coming off his skin, white stains being washed down the drain. The pale gray door of the cabin, thin and unreliable, a clean toilet seat, _fitting right for a fucking future prime minister’s ass_. Quiet rippling of yellow liquid; he could be using the urinal, but he never does, doesn’t feel safe standing there in the open. Has a reason to.

Yet… the memory of the sound haunts him, crawls up his legs, slow and ticklish, and makes him shift from one foot to another, just briefly. He feels uncomfortable: he always does, but this time is different. He avoids giving it a name. He was going to give his freaking father a blowjob anyway, and that was never fast; he was supposed to handle long enough. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

Goro applies some lip balm and gives it back to Shido. Shifts again.

“You must carry this with you if you can’t take proper care of yourself, is that clear?”

 _Of course, please, pretend like you care about my image_. Even his makeup artist never complains about his lips. And they’ve been bitten to that state for a while already. Following the Phantom Thieves has not proven to be easy.

He nods politely, though, and with a smile, like he always does. He knows, once he leaves this building, he’ll go to the nearest nice cosmetics store and buy some lip balm of his own. Because it’s a direct order and Shido may check it any time, or maybe because Goro is never able to not obey him, especially not lately. He doesn’t distinguish these feelings. He doesn’t like thinking about them.

“Sit down.”

Concentration lost, again; he sits down and immediately feels it. This is bad. He tells himself he’s exaggerating. He clenches a fist and looks at Shido’s face. Shido’s face barely has any wrinkles. He’s an old, disgusting man with a fake clear voice and a fake orange-tainted sight. He should have wrinkles all over the place to outline just how empty he is. Like an old juiceless fruit. The thought of juice brings Goro back to his own condition.

He feels wet, he realizes. Not _leaking_ , but _wet_. Because of all the tension that has built up, there’s an annoying sting of arousal in the back of his mind. And a clenched fist is not about to help anymore. He crosses his legs, and that makes things worse, too. He wants to shift to his previous position, but Shido’s eyes on him are so heavy, it feels uncomfortable.

“You’re not listening, are you?”

 _You’re not saying anything important, are you?_ Goro feels sweat collecting between his shoulder blades, feels saliva slowly crawling down his throat as he swallows. He can’t focus; Shido’s always spitting bullshit anyway; he hears words, but he can’t make them into sentences. Any tasks, any orders, all will be meticulously duplicated into his inbox soon; any traces will be cleared, and a throwaway address used. He will get through this, he will be fine; he never truly pays attention to anything Shido says, besides, maybe, things like ‘bring a collar next time’, or “don’t touch yourself until I say”, or “forget about the fucking condom, you’re on the pill anyway”. The last one, though, it isn’t so frequent these days. Not since the moment Goro learns he is no one here and nobody cares about him or his body. Shido would probably fuck him unprotected even if he was rotting inside. Shido’s arrogance allows that.

Any other phrases don’t matter. What really matters is that Shido’s arrogance doesn’t allow him to be ignored, and that when your chin is grabbed and dragged so roughly, to the point of something creaking in your neck, it’s actually painful, and Goro hisses through clenched teeth. But whatever he clenches, teeth or fists, the need between his legs just grows, and what he really wants is to squeeze his own groin and let go. He wants to pee.

As Shido’s mouth is moving, forming words, Goro feels his pupils go wide with realization. He finally admitted it. He thought the forbidden words. There’s no way he’ll be able to keep ignoring this. His desperation. His wish for a toilet to appear right here in front of him before everything rushes out. His dream about relieving himself, of this thin, liberating feeling that comes when you allow yourself to melt and become water.

Shido slaps him across the face, and that’s when Goro feels he’s come too far. The voice breaks through thick cotton walls surrounding him.

“Are you _high_?” he hears, and the only thing he feels in response is the need to go. It’s replacing his mind, cutting his brain out of his skull only to fill him up to the edges, yellow, transparent, nearly spilling… He swallows a laugh to not make things worse. Oh, if only he were simply high. “I said, you are going to meet Okumura with me, and gods forbid he sees you in this state. Two minutes.”

So that's why the plans went to hell and no blowjob happened. Okumura never chooses the righ time to appear, after all.

He then lets go and leaves the room. Even by the way he closes the door behind himself, it is clear he is annoyed. Goro carefully touches his cheek, his nose, his chin and throat, and swallows again, thinking just how he was about to pee himself when Shido's voice came so dangerously close to the intonation he usually uses before bending him down over the table and fucking the shit out of him. Desperation mixes in with thirst. This is not good at all. Two minutes are barely enough to walk through the long corridor to the nearest bathroom and maybe lock inside a gray cabin, but Shido needs him on time. More so if he's annoyed. There's no way Goro can be late.

He looks around, as if checking that no one sees him, and finally grabs his crotch for a moment, just sitting there and praying for the feeling to go away. For the first time in his life, his hands are unbelievably warm, and he hates it. The need curls inside of him, the slick wetness of his underwear touches his skin. He hates it. He wants to go; his bladder is howling. And yet. At least there aren't any spots on his pants, he compromises, standing up and heading to the conference room.

Okumura’s speech is dry and falsely soft, as always. His manner of speaking when it comes to business is awfully different from Shido’s: it’s empty, fake, non-charismatic, constantly sucking up. Please, mention my food chain in an interview. Please, affirm my plan on supporting your campaign. Please, kill these people for me, too, while you’re at it. By the way, you’re an amazing leader.

All of this is so sugar-coated. Simple phrases take eternities to be spelled out. Okumura never gets straight to the point when speaking to an authority, which Shido is to him. This is sickening, Goro thinks, but he tries to listen.

It’s better to listen than to think about what can happen if he so much as moves too roughly on his chair right now. He thanks gods his input is not required, though he can’t help but wonder what he was dragged here for. It’s not like Shido’s intention was ever to introduce the client to the executor.

It doesn’t become clearer when Shido takes over the conversation either. Shido’s speech is clean and straight, motivated. The endless drama classes he took are showing — he knows how to convey emotions while visually staying neutral. That confident, cocky look on his face follows his every word, creating an aura of a leader way better than simply ‘amazing’. Goro feels himself get wetter in his underwear as he hears that voice mention his name, and immediately tries to focus… But Shido is just speaking about Okumura’s PR plan, Goro’s appearances on TV, some other weird and boring shit.

He catches on just in time to squeeze in a few polite phrases and demonstrate how skillful he is at keeping his composure while his thighs are getting sticky, and while a warm yellow drop slowly mixes into an invisible puddle of slick. As he finishes his little interlude, he wants to scream a sound that is neither human, nor feral. He holds it. He holds it and keeps smiling for the metaphorical camera. _All of this is a punishment_ , he thinks, _Shido is punishing me_. He knows he’s wrong, there’s no way Shido is aware of his position, but his brain is being compressed into the most primitive thoughts under the weight of his desperation. He is only grateful that until the end of the meeting Shido doesn’t order him to leave. He knows he wouldn’t be able to stand up.

When Okumura leaves and Shido closes the door behind him, however, Goro feels like he’d rather walk out right now, pathetically bent double, rather than knew what should follow next. The throbbing between his thighs is unbearable. Another yellow drop slips out, and it’s a little bit painful, and Goro bites his bottom lip and averts his eyes, drills them into his own hands, carefully held on top of the conference table. He’s dying. His bladder feels small. Small round ball at the bottom of his belly, yellow and warm inside. One push, a tiny bit of pressure, and it will leak full force. Even his voice is stuffed deep down his throat, as if he’s getting smaller as a whole.

Shido doesn't just look annoyed anymore. There's something else in his eyes, bigger than that: lust mixing with contempt. Goro squirms in his place involuntarily and swallows. His father fucking loves to degrade him. The door is locked. He just instinctively knows what's about to happen.

As Shido moves closer and extends his hand, Goro's eyes dart to his crotch, noticing a small wet spot all but in time. The next moment he knows, huge warm palm is roughly pressing right onto his bladder, and he startles and tries to escape, to pull the hand away, to squeeze himself and stop, stop, stop it, but the flow inevitably comes. It's way hotter than Goro ever imagined, and the stream is stronger than he ever had. His underwear, his pants, his shoes, conference room floor. Everything is getting covered in bright yellow pee, immediately smelling. The relief is soul-crushing. Such heavy tension so close to his clit almost feels like orgasm. Fluid pumping itself out of him, just stretching one of his holes, mixing up with so much slick that it's impossible to say whether that once small wet spot was pee or the result of his arousal. The only thing that matters is that his father understands both. With the most excited, the most disgusted look he can give, he moves his thumb down, right under his belt and the edge of his underwear, and rubs Goro's swollen lower lips, hitting all the most sensitive spots, but never the bare clit head. He knows how to make his son squirm so well.

What a marvelous example of sensual family love.

It’s amazing how he’s not yelling and blowing up from anger, jerking Goro off instead. Goro briefly wonders if, seeing him pee himself, Shido is experiencing a new kink awakening and his anger is temporarily gone, or if it’s all just fake, and any second Goro will be kissing the floor and feeling his cunt torn in two.

As soon as the flow stops and the last bits drip onto the soaked fabric, two fingers stretch him at once. Goro bites his bottom lip again and tries not to make any sounds. His body sends a wave of pleasure all the way through his shivering belly to his hardening nipples and to his dizzy head. He doesn’t like it; he smirks and swallows a scream when Shido adds two fingers more. His thumb finally brushes his clit, pressing on it and slowly rubbing circles. Goro squints. This is just too intense. He feels pumped. Sucked with a vacuum. Each and every movement is _too much_. Shido chuckles with that sweet old contempt in his voice and starts rubbing faster, his hand fucking Goro so fiercely that Goro can’t hold back tears anymore. His pussy is pulsating, and it nearly hurts. There’s more and more, and more stimulation, but the orgasm just doesn’t seem to build up, and Goro wiggles and squirms and tries to escape the touch, but gods, is Shido firm in his grip.

 _“No,”_ gets buried into his own senseless gurgling as suddenly his insides contract and tighten around Shido’s fingers. Thirst is burning him on the inside. He wants to come, he wants to come, oh god, he wants to come so badly, everything in him is trembling, coiling, trapping Shido’s hand but all in vain as he keeps going. And, gods, Goro wants to come, Goro _needs_ to come, otherwise he’ll just _die_ , and… It hits him way too fast. One second he’s overwhelmed, and the other — he is seized with a ruined, quick, almost painful orgasm. Raging thirst is still within him, annoying, huge, unwieldy. Goro tries to breathe, but only a whimper escapes his mouth. _This is not enough._ Overstimulated, used, wrecked, he wants more so badly, but his body is asking for mercy and every touch now feels awful like literal fire.

This sucks. This sucks so much.

Thick drool crawls down his chin and his neck. All he can do now is force the sobs to die down. Shido pushes him away and shakes his dirty hand in the air. Instead of nausea his face shows triumph.

He picks up a box of tissues from the table, takes a few for himself and throws it at Goro. It hits his side and falls on his laps as he slides off the chair, still barely breathing.

“You’re more pathetic than a whore,” Shido drops, his voice slightly hoarse. He reaches his hand down and slowly strokes himself through fabric. “Clean yourself.”

Goro can’t move. His body aches from the uncomfortable position he was in. His legs and crotch are cold as wet pants are sticking to him. He doesn’t know how to clean this. He is soaked. There’s no clothes he could change into. He tries to grab the tissue box, but it takes him three attempts to succeed. He stares at it, dumbfounded.

He hates him. He hates Shido. He hates his kinks, his fingers, his movements and his voice, and the fact that he knows about Goro’s body so much, and the way Goro can become wet just because of this awful treatment he receives in these walls. There’s so little that Goro doesn’t hate about him and none of it is here now to soothe him. It’s just plain old orgasm aftershocks still somewhere deep in his body, undying thirst that no one asked for, and fucking useless tissues.

Shido sighs even deeper than before, still groping his fucking ugly dick in his fucking ugly pants.

Goro slowly takes his own off together with his underwear. There’s no way he can clean himself without undressing. Half-way through pulling the second leg out, he hears the characteristic sound of a zip. He takes the box of tissues again, his hands listening to him better than a minute ago, and he doesn’t look. He knows how Shido likes it: his mouth open, throat tensed slightly, so that he can rip through it, making him gag and hurt. He’s used to it. He knows the sounds Shido likes, the right way to look at him. He doesn’t want to, though.

Having gotten out of his clothes, Goro takes a tissue and slowly wipes the awful mess between his thighs, leading from his pubic bone to his ass. Wetness just seems to smear all over. Some of his pee has already dried off too, he suddenly realizes, looking at bits of his skin that are now useless to even try wiping. He takes new tissues and slowly cleans his lower lips and his hole, and all the stuff that crawled down along his legs. Last wipes irritate the skin and feel unpleasant and scratchy, too dry but still dirty.

As the rustling of the tissues dies down, the conference room becomes too quiet for comfort. Goro hears Shido hissing through his teeth, hears his fist stroking his shaft. He still doesn’t dare to raise his eyes, but he knows what it looks like anyways.

Goro wishes he could see Shido as just another rotten politician. He wishes he didn’t have to think how he knows the exact size of his _father's_ cock and how many seconds it takes for his precum to slowly start dripping.

“Get up.”

His voice is even more hoarse than it was, and Goro knows it’s because of arousal. The way it changes is repulsive. Nauseating. Hot.

His body is shivering as he pushes himself back up into the chair and takes a deep breath before daring to stand up fully. His hair falls, covering his sight, and, before he notices a movement, a firm grip on his shoulder is pressing him into the chair. Shido is taller and seems massive from this perspective, leaning over him, dick out. His heavy presence is annoying, captivating. Goro feels tension paralyze him. There's nothing good to expect.

Shido goes for his neck. The grip is sudden and strong, and Goro gasps for air and chokes. His hands fly up to stop this, to make Shido let go, but Shido just shrugs them off, holding him fiercer. Goro opens and closes his mouth, engulfed in this torture, and the lack of oxygen starts hitting him with dizziness, but that’s not it, the real thing is… The pressure on his throat makes him wiggle in place. It’s control. Crawling under his skin, his desire to control and to be controlled, to decide and to be decided for, to own his physical body and to surrender it. To let someone take it. Sweet, sweet pressure, and his whole focus on his neck only. Any moment he's ready to break.

That's why they fit in the end. Trivially, like puzzles. One into the other, blood to blood. That’s what Goro thinks sometimes, that it might just be blood that makes it all so intimate, that makes their sex so fucked up, that makes them both weirdly okay-not-okay with it. That makes the fingers blocking his breath desirable, that makes the hoarse breathing intoxicating. That makes Shido detest him, and degrade him, and deny him, but in the end — come for him.

He doesn’t notice at first, not until the grip on his throat gets loose for a bit, and as he gasps for air, he finally feels it: soft and fast rubbing at his swollen pussy, Shido’s wet precum mixing with his own slick. It’s getting messy again, Shido’s hand gets back to squeezing his neck, and Goro just manages to think that their position seems uncomfortable for orgasm, when he’s once again out of breath, and the friction intensifies. Shido doesn’t seem to mind the discomfort, or the fact that Goro is nearly senseless — maybe, he actually likes it. That’s what his heavy breath says, his hasty movements, and dirty words muttered so quietly that Goro can’t make them out. It’s nothing new, though. Shido’s probably just calling him a slut.

Goro waits and dreads for Shido’s cock to slide into him. His arousal is there again, never truly leaving, but his body is falling apart. This time, it’ll truly be too much. He will probably pass out. His head feels empty from all the dizziness. His throat hurts, his insides are pulsing, his clit burns. More, more, more friction, stimulate him to the core, pry the soul out of him, _when will you fucking enter me_ — Goro doesn’t want to come anymore, he just wants this to be over and maybe to hear his freaking father moaning for once, just to make up for everything he has to go through—

Shido groans once and finishes it.

He comes all over the place and, still pumping himself onto Goro’s shaking body, he takes a step back, trying not to get messy himself. His breath is ragged like never.

As his hand slows down, his face takes an empty expression. Goro recognizes this painfully familiar emptiness that both of them never show but doesn’t find it in himself to smirk through his own violent coughing. He feels ravished. He thinks of the dried pee on his legs, of his ruined pants and underwear, and how the tissues in the box have nearly ended.

Shido wipes the tip of his cock and the imaginable stains on his pants. His emptiness quickly becomes arrogance. Back to ‘normal', or so he's trying to seem.

There’s a weird note in the air. Hesitation. He raises a hand towards Goro, but looks through it, as if dissociating. Sometimes Goro thinks, what if he really is? What would it cost him to know his father’s soul as well as he knows his cock?

The hand drops. Shido nods to himself. Goro falters, sobs shortly and immediately bites his lip in disgust: the noise annoys himself in the first place. He wishes he could get inside this man. Rummage through his organs, break his bones, look at his beating heart — if he has one; to make sure he has one; to see it, because he doesn’t believe, doesn’t want to believe that there’s more to his father than a horny and inhuman piece of breathing flesh.

He wishes he knew what Masayoshi Shido thinks about when he pauses like this with one of his hands up and then nods.

“The cleaner will come in a few minutes,” Shido drops as he tucks himself in and zips up. His voice is unreadable. Goro answers with a weak grin.

Shido doesn’t say anything else. His movements are mechanically firm, the length of each step is carefully measured. He leaves the room and locks it with his back straight like at one of his TV appearances.

Goro once again slowly slides to the floor and freezes there, waiting. For once he is glad Shido doesn’t want their connection to become public.

Everything below his waist is throbbing. There’s very little else he’s glad for.

And even so, as he picks up and curiously smells bits of Shido’s come on his fingers, he feels like his life has gone too fucked up to change anything now.


End file.
